Hello Girl
by Thorn on a Rose
Summary: Miriam Fry opens up about her own war experiences when she catches Peggy boxing in the basement. Allusion to Cartinelli. Introspective piece. WARNING: mention of rape, suicide, and murder but no graphic descriptions thereof.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Agent Carter. I did see Ms. Atwell at a con though!

ON WITH THE STORY

-  
 **Hello Girl**

Miriam Fry was many things: a landlady, a staunch Republican, a devout reader of dime store novels, and a believer in propriety. The Griffith Hotel stood as testament to the first and last points. Within its walls young, single women could stay safe from the tumultuous world outside while away from family. While here she hoped that her little lessons and lectures (sprinkled with some tough love) would guide her girls to be women of genteel upbringing and chaste demeanor. For the most part she was succeeding in her crusade.

And then a new bird joined her flock.

Margaret Carter came in on a recommendation from a current tenant - Miriam reminded herself for the third time to tell Angela to cease singing practice past curfew - and she was a model of austere composure with a crisp intelligent accent. But there was something unusual about her stiff marching walk, how she ate as much as she could politely get away with, and the way she assessed a person or a room as if looking for weakness and exits.

Miriam kept a close eye on her new resident which led to this slightly awkward situation. "Miss Carter! What in blazes are you doing?!"

A defiant pursing of Margaret's lips was the only answer as she stood at attention next to a swinging stuffed bag of sorts suspended from the open ceiling of the basement laundry area.

"Well, Miss Carter?"

Margaret sighed and relaxed a bit by unclasping her hands from behind her back. "I am merely practicing my boxing, Madame Fry."

Miriam blustered for a moment, not expecting the obvious truth since not one of her girls ever told the truth without a twisted game of word play. "Oh! Well, this is highly unusual, Miss Carter. And not a pastime for a proper young lady."

Miriam flinched when Margaret let out a loud bark of a laugh. "I assure you Madame Fry, all the best ladies I know can cold cock a man before he even has time to think about disrespecting her person."

Miriam felt her cheeks flush at the crude way Margaret spoke and fought not to react verbally to the obvious challenge. A proper lady does not rise to taunts. "Be that as it may, I simply do not feel this is a proper hobby here at the Griffith Hotel. Please take that thing down and find another outlet."

Margaret stared until Miriam's pointer finger lowered. Then she said, "No, Madame Fry," very clearly.

A well of indignation surfaced beneath Miriam's relatively calm demeanor. "I will not ask again, Miss Carter."

Stepping forward into Miriam's personal space and looking down at her with bare arms crossed over her chest, Margaret said again, "No."

Miriam felt her pulse increase and a nervous sweat break out under her arms but did not move back, simply met her young tenant head on. Those hard brown eyes were piercing in their scrutiny but the British woman did not come any closer.

The stand-off seemed to last forever until Margaret smiled suddenly, ruefully.

"Really, Madame," she said. "I would imagine an upstanding woman such as yourself, who guards so fiercely the innocence of your girls, would understand how empowering it is for a woman to be able to defend herself against the unsavory characters in the world."

Although the tone was airy and most of the words flattering, the disappointment in Margaret's statement was obvious - and it stung.

Before she could unstick her heavy tongue, Miriam watched as Margaret turned on her heel and marched over to the bag hanging from the ceiling. Just as the young woman stretched to her tip toes to fiddle with the knotted rope, Miriam cleared her throat.

"Miss Carter," she paused to take a breath. "I was 16 years old when I joined the 'Hello Girls' in France during the Great War."

Margaret's heels hit the floor with a thump, her dark brown eyes wide and shocked. Miriam's stern mouth lifted briefly into a fluttering smile, more genuine and warm than her usual fake smile. "Oh yes, I wasn't a soldier, unlike yourself, but I did my part in the communication effort for the U.S. Army Signal Corps."

Miriam stepped closer to the British woman as she spoke and now reached out to the punching bag, tapping her fingers in a sequence against the rough burlap surface. "The other girls and I had a matron watching over us in the dorm, making sure we stayed out of mischief, but more importantly to protect us." A couple more taps were sounded into the bag before Margaret realized Miriam was using Morse Code to spell out a name: HELEN over and over again. "You see, she was scary and stern and utterly uncompromising to everyone. Especially to the men that tried to visit."

Margaret frowned, "Then why…?"

Sharp green eyes met Margaret's confused ones. "Because the wars are not over to most of the men out there. And women become targets of leftover aggression." HELEN was tapped out one last time before Miriam flattened her palm on the bag. "I had a roommate who quickly became my best friend. She and I were going to return to New York and work at the telephone company."

Looking away from Margaret to her hand, Miriam clenched her fingers tightly into the rough fabric beneath them, digging her nails into it deeply. "Our matron got ill a few weeks after victory and was bed bound. Some of the other girls took the opportunity to have their sweethearts visit. Some of those men brought friends."

Her eyes grew blurry from the tears that gathered but she blinked furiously clearing her vision so she could watch her audience. "Helen was returning from a quick grocer run while I was in our room preparing for bed. An hour passed before I got worried and went downstairs to see if she had made it back." The old woman took a deep breath then continued, "I found her lying on the floor in the community room unconscious and naked."

Miriam still remembered her shock and horror at the time, still felt it now. Her hand ached from clutching the bag so hard but the sorrowful end of her story drained away all her fury, leaving her lumped in defeat. "Helen could not live with what had been done to her and I could not save her from those demons."

Defeated though she was, Miriam's voice was diamond hard. "But I could make those bastards pay." A mirthless smile froze Margaret to the bone, only able to imagine what a woman harboring such great heartache could do. "I fled France after that night and came home. The Griffith fell into my lap after my pay from the army came through so I bought it and created a safe haven for young ladies."

Reaching out, Margaret laid a gentle hand on Miriam's shoulder. "For what it is worth, this is one of the best homes I have ever had."

Miriam snorted but didn't move away from the touch. "And yet you keep sneaking out."

Margaret flushed even as she nodded. "My… work keeps odd hours."

"Hm," Miriam hummed but let it go, turning her attention elsewhere. "Take that down Miss Carter and follow me."

With a sigh Margaret unknotted the suspension rope and hefted the bag over her shoulder. Miriam waited in the hallway outside of the laundry room then, once Margaret exited, turned to lead the way down the hall. A couple feet from the laundry room was a closed door. Miriam pulled a set of keys out of her pocket, opening the door with the last one on the ring. The light from the hall could only penetrate a foot into the room but Miriam entered fearlessly into the darkness.

Margaret lost sight of her until a quiet click preceded a flood of weak light from a swinging bulb in the ceiling. Boxes lined one wall while old furniture took up another, protruding into the center of the room.

"I have been meaning to clear out some of this old stuff," Miriam looked around for a moment before facing Margaret still in the doorway. "I suppose if you and Miss Martinelli help out, you can continue your lessons here." A smile graced Miriam's lips as she passed her young tenant on way out. "Just make sure to keep any shenanigans to a minimum. This _is_ a proper boarding house for proper young ladies after all."

Miriam reached the stairs when Margaret called out. "Thank you Madame Fry."

The older woman nodded then disappeared up the stairs leaving Peggy to contemplate the mess in the storage room. It would be a job to clear and rearrange the setting to her liking but Peggy relished the chance to have one open secret that she could continue to share with Angie and any of the other girls interested in boxing.

Walking into the room Peggy found a sturdy beam to stand under. Flipped the bag from her shoulder she reached up and tied an expert knot into the rope after raising the bag to an appropriate height. Stepping back, Peggy took up a stance and resumed her work out for the evening.

 **THE END**


End file.
